


Forged in Frost

by BudderTygress



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination, Assassination Plot(s), Awkwardness, Cicero Being Cicero (Elder Scrolls), Dark Brotherhood Questline, Does the Citrus Code Still Exist?, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Lemon & Lime, Light Angst, Listener is Not Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Love Confessions, Mental Instability, Mutual Pining, No beta we die like Lucien Lachance, Not Beta Read, Pining, Some People Who Died Are Alive, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BudderTygress/pseuds/BudderTygress
Summary: Erirva Nightdale is the granddaughter of Thaen Nightdale, Lucien Lachance’s Silencer, and a born assassin. When she’s forced to flee the Dark Brotherhood’s sanctuary in Valenwood, her ship crashes off the northern coast of Skyrim, killing almost all of her fellow passengers, leaving her and a young Thalmor Justiciar injured and struggling for their lives. She finds a strange man on their journey from Dawnstar and gets dragged into the complicated history of the Thalmor and Tamriel’s Dark Brotherhood, all while fleeing a ghost from her past.*Erirva is not the Dragonborn**A ton of this is personal headcanons, a lot of Thalmor related stuff will be personal speculation (even after playing Skyrim 50 times I still don't know everything about the Thalmor LOL)**There are a few (like two) characters that are still alive even though they were supposed to die**I’m taking a long hiatus from my other story ‘Empires and Lions’ for this story
Relationships: Ondolemar (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Rulindil (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Shipwrecked

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve based the beginning on the shipwreck in Arthmoor’s ‘Live Another Life’ Mod just because that mod is what gave me the idea for how Erirva gets to Skyrim in the first place, which led to most of her backstory, so… huge shoutout to that mod I guess!  
> Also, a big-ish thing about this story, as I’ve already said, Erirva is not the Dragonborn, in my view of the storyline the Dragonborn wouldn’t really have time to go prancing about and join every guild between Alduin and the civil war, so the way I see it, each guildmaster is a different character (and I have a few ideas about those characters) that may or may not pop up every once in a while  
> This story will also continue past the end of the main game and may end up being reasonably long if everything goes to plan.  
> I will use some quest dialogue, so sorry if it’s stuff we’ve all heard waaaayyy too many times 😭  
> Enjoy y'all!

The ship rocks and bucks as it hits another block of ice “Oy! Do ya even know how to steer a boat S’Wah?” The Dunmer sitting next to Erirva slams his fist into the ceiling. “Damn Nords... “ the mer next to her huffs, crossing his arms and cursing. 

_ he’s been complaining since we set out from Valenwood... _

Erirva closes her eyes, leaning against the hull of the ship and trying to focus on her last memories of home, her fresh scars aching under the scarf on her face and neck. 

_ Thæn holds Erirva's face in her hands as star-touched eyes meet her Granddaughter’s “My dear, I beg of you, be careful. I visited Skyrim once in my youth before I joined the Brotherhood, it is a cold, harsh place, but… I know you’ll be safe there.” A few stray tears slither down her wrinkled cheeks, and Erirva brings up a hand to wipe them away, smiling kindly at the elder Bosmer. “Grandmother, I’ll be safe, I know I will, Iachillon won't go to Skyrim, he gets his orders from those bastards in Summerset, and I’ll avoid any of his kin while I’m gone.”  _

_ Thæn carefully traces the new scars on Erirva’s face, the cold-burned skin rough under her fingers. “That bastard will pay for what he’s done, he will soon know the wrath of Sithis, my child.” Erirva gives her one last encouraging smile before turning to face her family. “Brothers and Sisters, I will miss you, but, I will never forget you all, and your services to our Dread Father and Matron, Though I leave you now, I will always be here with you in spirit.” She bows her head and she meets her mother’s eyes, full of tears and regret. She walks through the congregated room of assassins, hugging her closest sisters and brothers as she leaves, her armor traded for a simple jerkin and pack, with her stolen glass dagger on her hip. She walks up the sanctuary’s stairs and stands in front of her mother, they look nothing alike, as she was adopted by the Brotherhood as a child, but though her fire-red hair and golden eyes were so much different than Giawae’s coal-like curls and blood-red eyes, she was still her daughter.  _

_ Giawae hugs her tightly as tears streak her face, keeping sobs held tightly in her throat. “I’m so, so proud of you love, all you’ve done, you will be missed, my child.” She presses her lips to Erirva’s forehead, holding her tightly before letting go suddenly, resolve burning in her eyes. “Iachillon will not escape the wrath of Sithis, Erirva, I swear to you, he will die for what he’s done.” Erirva nods, hugging her mother tightly before quietly slipping out of the sanctuary into the warm Valenwood night. She breathes the warm air in, knowing that it will most likely be her last warm night for a long, long time.  _

Erirva’s eyes snap open as she’s tossed forward, the ship bucking and groaning as it hits the rocks. The other passengers scream and scramble for purchase as the ship begins to sink and roll. Water flowing freely into the hull, drenching everyone in the saltwater. "Damn it! Everyone hurry to the deck before…" The Dunmer yells above the rushing water, his burning red eyes piercing through the sudden darkness. Erirva starts to pull herself up the stairwell before a heavy box strikes her skull, sending the world into freezing darkness. 

\-------

Erirva gasps, splashing in the water as she jolts awake, shivering as her eyes dart around the darkness, trying to see what was happening. She swims toward the stairwell, noticing other dark figures floating around her. Erirva slowly pulls herself out of the water, coughing and spitting out water. She searches the boxes and bags around her, looking for her pack, which she finds a few feet away, sopping wet and musty. She slowly moves around the hull of the ship, boards creaking and bending beneath her boots. Taking various foods and dry clothes from the floor surrounding her, she finds her bow and quiver, taking it from a dry spot, thankful for her luck. 

Erirva searches the area around her, hoping to find a way to escape the slowly filling hull, and she notices light peeking through a hole in the wall, it's underwater, but that shouldn't stop her. She finds a smaller hole above her, and pushes her pack through with dry clothes and the bow, intent on them staying that way. Diving into the water, she crawls through the hole, quickly breaching outside of the ship, and swimming to the side she pushed her pack to. Pulling herself up onto the bottom of the boat, she drags herself across the barnacles and splinters to lay on the hull, thanking Sithis for keeping her alive. She lays on her back, breathing in the cold Skyrim air as she shivers, the water on her clothes turning to ice. 

Erirva almost falls off of the ship when she hears a pained groan nearby, hopping to her feet to look for her unfortunate companion. She walks quietly around, trying to find the other person, before finding a dark mass barley moving on the ship's bottom. "Hello? Are you alright?" Erirva unsheaths her dagger, holding it in a defensive stance and taking a few steps closer. A freezing chill races up her spine, causing her to shudder and take a step backwards as she gets a closer look at the form in front of her. A tall, black and gold clad form lays curled at her feet, groaning and shaking in pain. The Thalmor coughs, a painful, racking sound that causes Erirva to cringe in sympathy, immediately hating herself for holding any feelings toward the suffering Justiciar. She takes a few steps forward, standing only a foot away from the Altmer, dagger drawn and ready. They clearly notice her presence, shoulders tightening and head turning towards her in the slightest movement. Erirva considers stabbing the mer and being done with all this, but she doesn't feel like she should, her pitiful empathy causing her instead to kneel down, placing a hand on the mer's shoulder. "Are you alright?" She speaks quietly, in a calm tone as to not startle them, but the Justiciar jumps anyway, a gloved hand darting to grab Erirva's wrist, the robed figure turning quickly to face her. The Altmer womer's eyes full of fear and suspicion of the Bosmer before her, she scans Erirva's face, searching for any anger or malice, before freeing her arm and, against everything Erirva's learned about Justiciars, starts apologizing. "My… sincerest apologies little mer… you, startled me." She cringes, closing her eyes and holding her side, taking a deep breath before opening them again, Erirva notices a long cut in her side, bleeding profusely and staining her dark robes.

Erirva debates leaving her there to die, but decides against it, she'd met more Altmer than just Thalmor Justiciars like Iachillon who were kind and understanding of an orphan stealing to survive. "Here, let me look at that wound, it might be worse than it looks…" she holds her hand out, hoping the womer would allow her to help. The Justiciar ponders this for a moment before cringing and moving her hand away, exposing the bloody gash in her side. Erirva takes a close look at the wound, red blood staining the mer’s skin, She carefully peels the torn cloth from her side, the mer wincing as she places a hand next to the wound. “Shit… hold still for a second, ok?” The skin under her hand is burning hot to the touch, and she can see splinters of ice inside of it. She takes a healing potion out of her bag and uncorks it, pouring some of the contents onto the gash, pressing down on the Mer’s side to keep her still as she gasps, whimpering while the deepest cuts start to heal. “That’ll keep you alive until we can get help.”

”By the eight…” The womer's voice catches her off-guard and shockingly, there wasn't a hint of resentment or anger, just relief. 

"Do you have any idea where we are?" The mer's eyes scan the woods, nothing but snow and ice for miles, with what seemed to be a marsh, she squints, trying to peer through the mist to the north. "I think I see Solitude to the north, see the arch there?" Erirva nods, moving backward as the Thalmor stumbles to her feet, hand clutching her side. "Getting to Solitude will be our best bet, from there I'll be able to reach the embassy, and you'll hopefully be able to get some help as well." Before Erirva has a chance to protest, the mer finds a large chunk of wood floating in the water, it seemed big enough for two people, but didn't seem too sturdy.

"Are you sure about this? That doesn't seem too…" she's cut off by the mer giving her a look and gesturing to the open ocean around them "do you have a better idea little Bosmer?" Huffing, Erirva reluctantly settles onto the makeshift raft next to the mer, careful of her own injuries.

"So… Altmer, what's our plan here? I doubt we can survive this absolute wasteland by ourselves"

"Well, I'm hoping, for our sake, to find some of my kin to help us, since we're so close to Solitude, I'd suppose we could find our way to Dawnstar safely, given we find shelter of some kind for the night.”

Erirva nods, still unsure about trusting the mer, but she didn’t have any other options for the time being. They both take pieces of wood from the water and start rowing toward shore, a deafening silence between them making the journey more painful than necessary.

After nearly a half-hour of rowing, they finally reach the rocky shore, shivering and tired they both stumble onto dry land. The Justiciar takes a few wobbly steps before sinking to the ground coughing again, holding her side. Erirva instinctively moves to her side, setting a hand on her shoulder and scanning her face. “I’ll be fine, little bosmer, I just need to rest for a while.” Erirva nods, looking around for usable firewood or shelter. She stands, noticing what seems to be smoke father down the coast. “Look, do you see that?” The Altmer nods and struggles to stand, letting Erirva hold her up as they both try to peer through the trees. “I believe that might be Dawnstar, though I can’t be sure…” The Altmer pauses, thinking for a moment. “Do you want to come with me to check, or would you rather stay here?” The Altmer shakes her head “No, I can walk that far… hopefully” she carefully pushes Erirva away, standing alone, and began walking slowly toward the smoke, Erirva following closely behind her. After a while walking, the Altmer pipes up “I don’t believe I ever asked your name little Bosmer.” The womer stops for a moment and leans against a tree, looking her over curiously. Erirva debates using a fake name, but she doubts the altmer has ever heard of her. “Erirva, what about you? You’re bound to have a name too I imagine?” The Altmer scoffs, wincing at the exhale “Physha, and yes, even heartless Altmer have names.” Her voice thick with sarcasm, she pushes herself forward, continuing toward Dawnstar. Erirva frowns, shaking her head “uptight mer”

After a while more of walking and resting, they finally see the rooftops of dawnstar, as the sun begins to sink below the horizon, the pair stumble to the nearby inn, Physha ducking under the doorway to avoid knocking herself out. “Sit down somewhere, I’ll get us rooms and food, alright?” Physha sits heavily onto a bench near the fire and nods, wincing as she strains her side. Erirva walks past the blazing fire and over to the innkeep. The nord looks lost in thought as she walks over, so as she reaches the counter she clears her throat, causing the nord to jump. “Oh, I'm sorry. My mind was just somewhere else. Did you need a room? Drink?” He gives her a tense smile, a somber air around him. “Yes, two rooms and some food and drink for my… companion and I, if you don’t mind.” She looks back at Physha for a moment, who seems to be nursing her side, and hands the innkeep his gold “Of course, I’ll have my daughter bring you both some bread and ale, your rooms are the two to your left.” Erirva bows her head in thanks and walks back to Physha. “How’s the cut?” She scoffs “Not well, if I’m completely honest, but it could be worse…” she’s interrupted by the young Nord woman setting down their food. The woman looks them over and gives Physha a wary look before scurrying back to the counter. Physha seems confused for a moment before seemingly remembering where they are “Not used to people hating you?” She seems taken aback by Erirva’s -albeit fairly rude- words “I’ve never left Alinor, so I’m not used to seeing humans in general, Master Cirrion warned me I would not get a warm reception, but only the soldiers really complained…” Erirva pauses, she’d known Physha was heading from the Isles, but she hadn’t realized how similar their situations seemed to be, both coming to a new land, not knowing who -or what- they’d run into. “Sorry… I guess.” Erirva stands, leaving her half-drunken mead on the table “I’m heading to rest, you should too… unless you need help with your wound?” Physha shakes her head “No. I’ll manage, I’ll see you come morning, then we’ll head for Solitude.” Erirva heads to her room, closing the door behind her and yawning, who knew being shipwrecked and crossing a frozen wasteland could leave you so tired? She removes her hood and scarf, careful not to rub the fresh scars across her face. She looks into a mirror and carefully runs her fingers over the frozen skin, wincing as the scabs shift.  _ Gods… I do look horrible… _ she sighs and drops onto the soft furs, closing her eyes and drifting off to dream.


	2. A Hint of Madness

Erirva jolts, a nightmare fresh in the corner of her eye. She carefully stands with a yawn, stretching her shoulder and side. Looking to the mirror, she pulls her shirt up a few inches, running her fingers over the burned skin covering her ribs and hip. After a moment of staring, she quickly wraps her scarf over her neck and the left side of her face, pulling up her hood and heading out into the tavern. She looks around, a small part of her hoping that Physha had left while she was sleeping, but stomping that thought the moment she catches her eye from across the inn. She had repaired her robes and seemed in much less pain than the day before. Erirva quickly moves to the bench, sitting across from Physha, a large map of Skyrim laid out in front of her “I hope you slept well, we have a long way to go today.” Erirva leans forward, reading the map and following two paths of red ink leading from Dawnstar to Solitude.

One path headed straight south toward Whiterun, and the other led west towards Morthal, both paths ending on a large dot near Solitude, which she could only guess was the embassy. “You’re mapping our route to Solitude?” Physha nods, setting down the quill she was holding. “We essentially have two options, we either head for Whiterun and catch a carriage to Solitude, or we head through the marshes of Morthal and walk there.” She pauses for a moment, pointing out the two routes. “I suggest we head to Whiterun, both paths will take about the same amount of time, but the marshes are dangerous, and i’m not sure either of us could walk that far without more time to lick our wounds.” Erirva thinks for a moment, considering the two paths, and comes to a quick solution.

“Yeah, I think heading to Whiterun could be for the best, we’ll be going a bit out of our way, but I could buy some provisions and we can easily hire a carriage.” Erirva steps back from the table, and the young woman from the night before scurries past, holding a plate of food and a tankard, heading to a table across from them. Her eyes trace around the room, landing on the innkeeper behind the counter. “I’ll be right back, get ready to head off, We’d best get moving as soon as possible.” Physha nods, starting to roll up the map and pack away her ink and quills. As Erirva approaches the Nord, he snaps out of a haze and gives her a tight-lipped smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you heard any rumors lately? Any odd happenings around the major cities?” his eyes dart around for a moment before he leans closer to her. “I’ve heard a rumor from a few travelers, A boy, up in Windhelm, Aventus Aretino if I remember exactly, people are saying he’s trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood. I thought that band of murderers had been destroyed years ago, it’s strange isn’t it?” Erirva steps back a bit, trying to mask her interest with confusion. “Yes, strange… Thank you.” placing a few septims on the counter, she turns back toward Physha, but as she looks up she notices that a few nords are glaring at her from across the tavern, muttering amongst themselves. Erirva scurries over to her and grabs her arm, before Physha has a chance to protest, she pulls her to her feet and leaves the tavern quickly. She pulls her arm away and glances down at Erirva “Hey, what was that about? I get that we need to head out…” 

“Those nords were seconds away from taking their chance at killing you, are you that oblivious?” Physha stops, shifting on her feet for a moment as Erirva turns to face her. “You really didn’t notice, did you?” She groans, shaking her head. “Come on, no doubt the other Thalmor will explain how much people in Skyrim despise all of you.” She adjusts her pack, turning to follow the cobblestone road out of the city, Physha’s footsteps following not far behind. A nearby guard turns to watch them leave, eyes lingering on Physha out of habit, and walks quickly past them on their rounds. 

They follow the cobblestone path, occasionally checking Physha’s map when they reach a crossroads, until Erirva notices what seems to be a fort built over the road. She reaches out to stop Physha, arm bumping her shoulder as they both come to a stop. “So, what’s the plan here? Do we try to go around, or do we figure out who controls it and hope they let us through?” Erirva shakes her head. “The only way for us to get past is to go around, those people up there.” She points to a small group at the top of a tower, wearing cobbled-together armor “Don’t look like the conversational type. Just follow my lead and they won’t even notice us.” Erirva leads her around the very edge of where the small valley meets a mountain, and the pair quietly slip past the fort, only pausing a few times when a bandit turned in their direction before continuing along the path. After another hour of walking with nothing eventful happening, they reach the edge of the woods, the mountains giving way to another, much larger valley. Erirva squints, and she notices what seems to be the spires of Whiterun towering over the valley ahead. As they continue along the path, they notice a small farm in front of them, with what seems to be a broken-down cart off the edge, with a very aggravated imperial babbling on at a guard. “Stay here for a moment, i’ll be back in just a second.” Before Physha can protest, Erirva jogs down the path, and as she reaches the cart, the guard shakes his head, walking away from the man. Who, on second inspection, looks much stranger than she first thought. The short imperial was dressed head to toe in what she could only describe as a red and black jerster’s suit, his wiry ginger hair sticking out from under his cap. As she approaches, he starts grumbling to himself. 

“Augh! Bother and befuddle, stuck here, stuck! My mother, my poor mother, unmoving, at rest, but too still.” He sounds absolutely mad she steps closer, so that he can see her before speaking “Is there a problem? I noticed you talking to the guard..” He speaks before she has the chance to finish asking “Poor Cicero is stuck! Can’t you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her, her corpse.” He giggles for a moment, and something about the air around him, and the cart, reminds her of the altar in the Valenwood sanctuary. “She’s quite dead. I’m taking mother to a new home, a new crypt, but… Augh, wagon wheel! Damndest wagon wheel! It broke, don’t you see?” As he speaks, he slowly gets more agitated, waving his hands around and gritting his teeth. “Is there any way I could help? Since that guard clearly isn’t helping.” She quickly looks to where she left Physha, who has elected to sit on the ground a few feet from the road, and thankfully hasn’t caught the attention of the guard. “Oh! Oh yes! The kindly stranger can certainly help! Go to the farm, the Loreius farm, just over there off the road, talk to Loreius, he has the tools to fix my wheel, but he won’t, he refuses! Augh, convince Loreius to fix my wheel, and Cicero will reward you! With coin, gleamy, shiny coin!” 

The man, Cicero, seemed earnest enough, so Erirva nods and walks up the path toward the small farm, where the farmer, who she had to assume was Loreius, and his wife tended to the garden. “Hello, are you Loreius?” The man looks up from the cabbages he was picking and groans, standing to approach Erirva. “Oh, for the love of Mara, what now?” He seems extremely annoyed, and not too kind. “The, uh, little man really needs your help, with his wagon?” She points her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing back toward the wagon “That Cicero feller? Huh, tell me something I don’t know, crazy fool’s already asked me about five times, seems he’s not satisfied with my answer. Why can’t he just leave us alone?” 

“What’s the problem? i’m sure he’ll pay you…”

“Pay me? You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He’s completely out of his head, A jester, here in Skyrim? Ain’t been a merryman in these parts for a hundred years. And he’s transporting some giant box, says it’s a coffin, and he’s going to bury his mother. Mother my eye, he could have anything in there. War contraband, weapons, Skooma? Ain’t no way i’m getting involved in any of that.” He leans against the fence as he speaks sending angry glances over her shoulder towards Cicero as he speaks. “He’s a stranger that needs your help. please, do the right thing.”  
“What? And just who in Mara’s name are you anyway? Hmm? Come here, telling me my business? And for what? To help a… a… a fool?” He pauses, angry, but considering what she said. “You know you should help him, he’s someone in need, and the last time I checked, Mara’s mercy extends to everyone, not just her followers.”

“Look, I… I, Yes, you’re right. Feller might be nutters, might not. But fact is, he needs help. I turn him away, what kind of man am I? Look, um… Thanks. And I'm sorry for my unneighborly reaction. If you talk to Cicero, be sure and tell him i’ll be down to help soon.” He sighs and smiles thinly, a bit embarrassed. “Thank you for your help Loreius, I'll make sure and tell him.” She turns and quickly walks down the hill back towards where Cicero is standing, kicking the back of the wagon as he mutters to himself more.  
“Poor mother… Her new home seems so very far…” She walks up to him and his face brightens. “I talked to Loreius, He’s agreed to fix the broken wagon wheel.” She offers him a thin smile and he grins, hopping a bit and waving his hands excitedly “You… You did? He Has? Oh, Stranger! You have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But more! Even more! My mother thanks you!” He pauses, reaching for his coin purse, grinning widely as he presses a small pouch of septims into her hands “Here, here. For your troubles! Shiny, clinky gold! A few coins for your kind deed! And thank you! Thank you again.” She can’t help but smile, the crazy Jester’s joy being far too contagious for her liking. His eyes linger on the scarf covering her face for a moment before he steps back, a dazzling grin still on his lips as Erirva turns and walks back to Physha. She hears Cicero cheering to himself and he skips back to the wagon, placing a hand on the coffin and saying something too quiet for her to hear. Something gnawed at the back of her mind, that familiar feeling had persisted while she stood near the wagon, a comforting feeling that she only ever associated with the Valenwood sanctuary and their shrine to the Night Mother. She tries to shake off the feeling as she approaches Physha, who seemed entirely too comfortable sitting on the grass in full Thalmor regalia. She looks up as Erirva approaches “You done with your errand? We’re very close to Whiterun, we’ll probably get there in less than an hour if we leave now.” Erirva nods, and Physha uses a nearby boulder to help herself stand, taking a deep breath as she rises to her full height. “Alright, lead the way.” Physha gestures to the road, and Erirva walks ahead, ignoring the strange look the guard gives them as they pass. She looks over at the cart, and notices Loreius walking down the hill with a toolbox. As they pass Cicero waves excitedly at Erirva, grinning ear-to-ear. “Who in Oblivion was that?” She shrugs “His wagon wheel was broken, so I convinced the farmer to help fix it, No big deal.” Physha recoils a bit when Cicero grins at her, and walks quickly to catch up with Erirva. 

Following the broken cobblestone, they pass a few small farms on their way to Whiterun. As they get closer to the city, Erirva looks up, eyes scanning the towering white walls, a bit in awe of the stonework. “Never seen a city like this either?” Physha had stopped a few feet behind, staring at the walls with widened eyes. “No, most of the cities in Valenwood are built into and around the forest, the stonework is completely different than anything I saw in the Grahtwood.” Erirva hadn’t realized she was rambling until she looked back over to Physha, who was looking at her with those same wide, dark eyes. “You grew up in the Grahtwood? I’ve only heard stories of those trees, But I’ve never known anyone who lived there.” Erirva inwardly groaned, knowing that no matter how hard she tried, she would be forced to talk about her homeland on the way to Solitude. “I’ll tell you more when we’re in the carriage on the way to the Embassy, the sun’s getting low, so we need to hurry if we’re getting to the city today.” Physha deflates a bit, but has an oddly determined look on her face as they get closer to the city. The few guards doing their rounds on the outskirts give the pair strange looks as they pass, but with a well-placed scowl, Physha sends any of them scurrying away before they say anything. After a little more walking, they reach the city gates, the two guards standing watch caught off guard by the approaching Justiciar. “Halt! What is your business here?” Physha steps forward, her demeanor switching from her slightly-goofy air to something much more intimidating. “We’re here to buy provisions and hire a carriage to Solitude, then we will be on our way.” The guards exchange looks, their helmets obscuring their faces too much to tell their expressions. “Very well, go about your business.” The guard on the left opens the gate, and Physha leads the way into the city. 

As they enter, a few citizens and guards give them odd glances, but they mostly continue about their business, rushing around between shops as the sun lowers in the sky. “Alright, so what do you need before we leave?” Physha turns back to Erirva, the intimidating air starting to fade away as worry sparks behind her eyes. “We’ll need food for the trip to Solitude, and we haven’t eaten since this morning so we need food for tonight as well. We should head to the market, hopefully get some dried meat and some fruit.” Erirva starts walking toward what seems to be the central market, the various farmers and merchants peddling their wares to passers-by. A produce stand catches her eye, a few bright red apples sitting in a basket. As she walks over, she hears a nasally voice to her right, directed towards one of the people buying jewelry. “Do you get to the Cloud district very often? Oh, what am I saying, of course you don’t” The statement fills her with a shocking amount of rage, and she has to take a moment to focus before she stops in front of the cart, the woman behind it smiling. “Ripe fruit and vegetables for sale! Straight from the fields and orchards of Whiterun!” 

“I’d like to buy a few apples, how much would four cost?” She picks a few of the larger, ripe apples from the basket and sets them on the counter. “Well, I’d say 8 septims for all four, milady.” Erirva nods and hands her the gold, checking over her shoulder to keep an eye on Physha, But as she looks over her shoulder, Physha is nowhere to be seen. She frantically searches around her before finally spotting her across the market, the old nord jeweler casually probing her with questions, while Physha was clearly trying to back out of the conversation. Erirva moves to Physha’s side, catching the old woman’s attention. “I got the fruit, let’s find someone selling salted meats, then we can leave, alright?” Physha nods, following quickly behind Erirva, she stops next to a shop pointing at the shadowed corner. “Stay here while I finish shopping, don’t draw any more attention to yourself.” She nods, slightly shaken, and nestles into the corner, her robes nearly invisible in the darkening shadows. Erirva turns back to the market, glancing around for anyone who looks like they sell meats, and her eyes quickly find a male Bosmer, standing behind a counter with various meats spread around, as she approaches, he immediately notices her, his crimson eyes meeting hers with a grin. “Ah, it’s been a while since i’ve seen another Bosmer in Whiterun, I hope the cold isn’t too harsh.” She notices a slight knowing glint in his eye, he could probably tell she wasn’t used to the cold. “The cold is,.. tolerable. Nowhere near as bad as it was on the sea, thankfully. I was hoping to buy some dried meats, if you have any?” His eyes linger on her scarf for a moment and he nods “I have some dried venison, it may not be the same as it would be in Valenwood, but I do my best. Ten septims for a good-sized bag.” She nods, pulling at the end of her scarf as she places the septims on the counter. He hands her a small canvas bag, she could tell by the smell that it was salted venison, and fairly well seasoned. “Thank you.” 

She starts to walk back toward Physha, and the mer calls out to her in Bosmeris “I hope to see you again, wanderer.” She looks back for a moment before continuing to Physha. “Come on, I have Apples and dried venison, it should be enough for the journey to the embassy, Let’s hire a carriage and get going.” Physha nods, clearly still shaken, and they both make their way out of the city, the guards giving them the same odd looks as they pass, until they reach the stables. A man sits on a cart, smoking a pipe while he fiddles with the reigns. Erirva walks up to him, making sure he can see her before she speaks. “How much for passage to Solitude for two people?” He glances around for a moment, seeing Physha standing a few feet away from Erirva. “I’d say, for the two of you, ninety septims.” She takes out her coin purse, counting the septims she has left and hands him ninety. He nods and gestures to the wagon, Physha carefully climbs into the back, Erirva right behind her as he pulls the horse’s reins, the two horses neighing and pulling the cart forward into the night. “Name’s Bjorlam, by the way. It’ll take all night and some of the morning to get to Solitude, so i’d suggest you get some sleep back there, i’ll wake you if anything happens.” Physha wraps her robes closer around herself and breathes out into the cold night air, Erirva opens her pack, taking out two of the apples and tossing Physha one “Here, dinner is served.” The barest smile crosses Physha’s lips as she catches the apple and settles onto the floor of the wagon, curling up against the front and eating quietly. Erirva takes a bite of her apple and leans back, watching the moon and stars peek out from behind the clouds as the sun finally sets, and the carriage rolls along toward their destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Hope Y'all Are enjoying it so far! If I have to use actual quest dialogue, I'll do my best to spice it up a bit by adding descriptors and editing the speech itself a bit to keep it from being too repetitive! I'm surprising myself with how much more I'm enjoying writing this than I was writing Empires and Lions!


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